Peverell Chronicles: The Heir
by Mister Author Guy
Summary: Selene Asmodeus has been named many things. While her titles include Girl-Who-Lived, Defeater-of-Peverell, and the Light's hope, in her first year at Hogwarts, she gains one she never dreamed of obtaining. The Dark Lord who marked her has named her his heir.


**So, this is the first part of my trilogy, the Peverell Chronicles. For an outline of the backstory, read my oneshot Lord Peverell. This is set eighteen years after the events of Lord Peverell's seventh year at Hogwarts.**

The cloaked and hooded figure walked along Grimmauld Place, counting the numbers off the mailboxes as he passed them. "Seventy-five … Seventy four …"

His cloak was like liquid shadows, and his hood obscured his face. If one were to see him, they would know the cloak had some form of magic imbued within it. "Sixty-seven … Sixty-six … Sixty-five …"

In his right hand was a wand made of elder wood, with a core of thestral hair, and in his left was a wand of holly and phoenix feather. "Fifty-three … Fifty-two …"

Around his neck was a necklace of gold and silver, with a stone resting over his heart. The stone had a set of strange markings, and it issued a conflicted aura of death and sorrow. "Forty … Thirty-nine …"

His footfalls were silent, and his cloak made no noise as he walked. The only sound was that of his voice, a voice which carried a sense of power. "Twenty-eight … Twenty-seven …"

His name was Lord Peverell, and he had come here with a purpose. "Fourteen … Thirteen … Twelve."

He stopped just in front of the door, and stood there, staring. After a few seconds, the door opened, revealing grim and bare hallways. He walked forwards through an open doorway, and sat down at a table. Lord Peverell stared at the other occupant of the table. She was a young girl who looked to be nearing the age of eleven.

"_So …,"_ he began, in a voice like hissing. _"How is my heir doing?"_

The girl shrank back in her seat. Peverell hissed in annoyance, and began to slowly pull off his hood. Just as he revealed his eyes, green eyes unlike any others …

Selene Asmodeus woke up. Taking a few deep breaths to calm her franticly beating heat, she sat up in her bed. Looking at her clock, she saw it was only five in the morning, far too early for any sane person to wake up. Realizing that she was in no way going to fall asleep again, she walked down to the kitchen of her house, and sat glumly at the table. She looked up as her brother Dale came into the room.

"Happy birthday," she muttered. Her brother was born at nearly midnight on June twenty-ninth; she, on the other hand, was born almost immediately after the clock struck midnight, this time on the thirtieth. "I suppose you'll be getting your wand today."

Her brother gave an impish grin. "Yep. Mum and dad decided that you can get yours too, so you won't have to bother waiting."

She sighed in relief. She had been worried about that. She hadn't wanted her brother to have to wait for her to turn eleven, but she wasn't looking forwards to waiting an extra day. "What type of wood do you think yours will be made of? If you get it wrong, you owe me a galleon."

He threw his arm out in a flamboyant gesture. "Spruce, of course. Why would it be anything different. Just over dramatic as I am. Oh, and you owe _me_ a galleon if I'm right."

Selene laughed. Her brother always managed to cheer her up, even when she woke up at five in the morning. "Of course. I think I'll probably get Apple. Girl-Who-Lived, and all that."

"I dunno, you can't really aim much higher than that," he said. His face grew harder. What woke you up? Peverell Dream again?"

She sighed. She had been having those as long as she could remember. Fifteen years ago, a man had somehow gained massive amounts of power, and went on a bloody rampage. He killed seemingly indiscriminately for four years, eventually facing down with the other Dark Lord of the time; Lord Voldemort. In what was described as the greatest magical duel since the battle between Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore, Peverell won. He almost immediately tracked her down, and tried to kill her. Though she had survived, and even managed to drive him off, it had left its mark, and the Wizarding World knew he would be back. "Of course. Same as last time, but I was older."

Dale wrinkled his nose in disgust. Crying out dramatically, he proclaimed, "Let's not talk about such grim topics. After all, we _are _going to Hogwarts. Father said we'd be leaving at ten."

Selene laughed at her brother's theatrics, and they proceeded to talk until their parents came down.

* * *

"Ah, I wondered when you two would arrive. How are you, Mr. Asmodeus and Ms. Asmodeus?"

Selene smiled. "I'm fine, Mr. Ollivander. Thank you for asking."

Beside her, Dale sniffed in distaste at her meager response. "I feel perfect, like a bird in flight …"

Selene glared at him; now was not the time for theatrics!

"I remember your parent's wands. Your father had willow and phoenix feather, ten inches. Unusual potency in charms, if I recall correctly. Your mother had sycamore and dragon heartstring. Quite an adventurous wand, and quite good for dueling. Now, who will be going first?"

Selene nudged her brother forwards with her elbow. He shrugged, before walking up to the old silvery-eyed man.

"Now, which is your wand arm?"

"My left arm, sir."

Selene blinked in surprise, her brother was being unusually calm. Probably just from getting his wand; after all, her parents did warn them to be respectful.

Ollivander finished his measurements, and pulled a box off the shelf, and handed the wand inside to Dale. "Ash and phoenix feather, ten inches."

Just as Dale touched the wand, a lamp on the store counter shattered.

"No, no, not that one," Ollivander said, hurriedly snatching the wand back. Turning back to the shelf, he began to look through the rest. "Now, let's look— no, no, not that— maybe... never mind— ah, this is it."

He jumped down from the ladder, and handed a wand to Dale. "Spruce and dragon heartstring, nine inches. Quite flamboyant, and _very_ restless."

A warm glow filled the air as Dale picked up the wand, and Ollivander smiled, satisfied with the wand he had given. "Yes, that's the one."

Turning to Selene, he asked, "Which is your wand hand?"

She thought for a bit. "I dunno, I guess my right arm?"

He nodded, and snapped his fingers. An enchanted tape measure quickly began to measure her arms, before finally stopping. He climbed back onto the ladder, muttering to himself to quietly to be heard. Finally reaching a decision, he pulled off a box from near the ceiling. "I thought this might be the one."

He slowly climbed down the ladder, and motioned for her to come near. "Acacia and unicorn hair, eleven inches. This is a _very_ loyal wand."

As she picked up the wand, giddy warmth flowed through her, and she was unable to stop a smile from entering her face. Ollivander smiled as well, and said, "I thought it would be this one. It is one of my finest works, and now that it has bonded with you, almost nothing can separate the two of you."

Selene and Dale thanked him, and paid the fourteen galleons for the two wands. As they walked out the door to meet their parents outside, Dale elbowed his sister, a smirk on his face. "You still owe me a galleon."

**It took me quite a while to pick out their wands. After hours of slogging through the wiki, I determined there wands to match their character. Spruce, when bonded with a proper owner tends to produce dramatic and flamboyant effects, and dragon heartstring is the most showy of the cores. Acacia is very temperamental on who uses it; most refuse to work for anyone but their owner, and is generally used by wizards who use rather subtle magic, and unicorn hair is described as the most reliable core, generally avoiding power fluctuations. Wand length is determined by both physical size and strength of personality, something you may want to keep an eye out for in this chapter.**

**In the next chapter, we'll meet their parents, and see the rest of Diagon Alley.**


End file.
